


The Game

by heykaylabeth



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heykaylabeth/pseuds/heykaylabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As children, Erin and Jillian begin to play a game -- a sort of dare or dare. They continue to play as they get older, their challenges becoming more and more reckless and perverse.</p><p>Or: A love story between two psychopaths.</p><p>Or: Jeux D'enfants AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm typically not into AUs based on movies and stuff, but I had the idea for this one and I was only sort of toying with it, but then I was encouraged to do it so...it's happening. Jeux D'enfants is one of my favourite movies ever so like, I'm really excited about this? The only thing on this earth that I love more than Holtzbert is Marion Cotillard, and this is a Very Important Fact About Me. Like, seriously, okay, I refer to her as my wife, and anybody who knows me just knows who I'm talking about. One time, my mom told me that my stepdad said something to her about "seeing a trailer for a movie with Kayla's wife in it." Like, it's THAT serious. Last summer, I met her after having been madly in love with her for six years, and it was the best moment of my entire life and I cried A LOT. None of this is important at all. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Anyways. This is really different from everything I've been writing because it's an AU and it's based on another movie and I don't REALLY know what I'm doing, but I'm doing it aaaand yeah. Also, the movie is in French, obviously, and the main phrase that they use is "cap ou pas cap" which translates to "capable or not capable" I think??? (I am not French.) But that's not a very easy phrase that rolls off the tongue, so I just used "game?" much like the English subtitles do in the movie, which isn't my favourite, but I'm unable to think of anything better. I am trying to not make this a word-for-word redo of the movie with just swapping out characters, but it's bound to happen a few times.
> 
> Also "a love story between two psychopaths" is an actual description I found while looking to watch the movie online and it was too perfect to not use.

The bed in Erin’s parents’ bedroom stands high enough from the ground where she can slide underneath, bringing with her the company of her stuffed rabbit, the rubik’s cube that she had figured out once before but had yet to do again, and a few of her dolls -- but only the ones she likes the very best. She can slide herself underneath the bed and still have plenty of room, but not enough room for another person. No, it’s her own spot, the spot where she fits with the things she likes best, and nobody else can bother her.

 

She lays on her belly beneath the bed, and she can see the three pairs of feet. Her mother’s feet with her bare legs and the shoes she had put on just for the doctor’s visit. Her father’s feet in his jeans and socks. And the doctor. The doctor’s brown slacks are finely pressed, coming to a sharp folded point at the front of his legs, but they’re too long on him and fabric gathers around his black dress shoes. Erin thinks it looks very stupid.

 

She also thinks that the word “metastasis” sounds very stupid. 

 

She hears her mother cry, and she doesn’t like that at all. She doesn’t like that the doctor has made her mom cry.

 

When the doctor finally leaves, something feels different. Erin crawls out from underneath the bed, sits down beside her mother, and she doesn’t understand why her mom was crying, but she knows that she wants to cheer her up now. But she catches sight of something on the nightstand that she’s never seen before.

 

It’s a cylindrical tin box about as wide as it is tall with a slightly pointed top. The image of a carousel decorates the side, each horse different on its white pole. The bright colours -- blue, red, yellow -- call out to Erin, and she points, lets out a soft gasp.

 

“What’s that?” she asks. Her mom smiles, grabbing it, handing it to her.

 

“I found this and thought you would like it.”

 

“Wow,” she breathes, turning it around in her hands. “I’ve never seen such a cool merry-go-round  _ ever!” _

 

Her mom smiles at her, and Erin grins back, just as she always does, but there’s something different. There’s something different in her mother’s smile. She doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t know what it is or what it means, but it makes her want to hug her. So, she does. She wraps her small arms around her mom’s neck, and her mom chokes out a gasp, and she’s hugging her back, tighter than she’s ever hugged her before.

 

“Erin,” her dad says beside them. “I need you to take the school bus today, okay? Can you do that?”

 

Erin doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge the question, just keeps herself wrapped around her mother.

 

“Erin. I need to stay with your mom today. I need you to take the school bus. It’s time to go.”

 

She shakes her head.

 

She feels his hands on her, gently prying her away, but she shakes her head more, clings on even tighter, but he pulls her away and she whines, and her mother is crying, hastily wiping away her tears.

 

“It’s okay, Erin,” she assures her. “Go to school. Be good today, okay?”

 

She nods.

 

She’s already out the front door before she realizes that she’s still holding the carousel tin in her hands. But she can hear her schoolmates down the road already, waiting for the bus, and there’s no time to turn back. So she holds it as she sets off towards the bus stop.

 

She hears the way the other children are yelling before she hears the words they’re saying. She can tell, even from far away that they are taunting, teasing. She sees them, all circled around something. As she gets closer, she hears words like “weirdo” and “freak” and “dirty” and other things.

 

A small girl is in the middle of the circle, her wild blonde hair pulled into messy and uneven pigtails, her clothing oversized and worn, her school bag on the ground, lying in a puddle, supplies scattered about and wet. She crouches on the ground, hastily trying to grab her things as the school bus approaches, and even from far away, Erin can see that she’s crying.

 

She’s new. Arrived at school two days ago. 

 

The bus stops. The girl stands, frantically looking at the bus and then back at her belongings, all strewn about. A boy laughs cruelly, pushes her, and she falls onto the concrete, winces, her bright blue eyes swimming with tears. The boy laughs, and so do the other kids, and then they rush towards the school bus, piling onto it, continuing to laugh. Erin feels an unpleasant lurch in the pit of her stomach. She looks at the school bus, at the laughing kids, and then looks back at the new girl. She takes a step forward, wanting to help, but then the bus driver is there, sighing and shaking his head, bending down to grab for the girl’s things.

 

Erin steps forward anyways, and the girl looks up at her, and her expression is defiant and daring, her jaw set, prepared for more of the same treatment as she received from the other kids.

 

“Jillian?” Erin asks, not sure if she’s remembering her name correctly. She shakes her head.

 

“I think you mean  _ Dirty Weirdo Freak.” _

 

But Erin holds out her carousel tin in her direction. The girl’s features soften and she tilts her head in questioning. Erin pushes the tin closer to her face. She takes it, looks at her, her lips turning up into a smile, looking at Erin again. Erin smiles, too.

 

But then there’s a moment where Jillian pulls the tin closer to her, holding it to her chest, and a wave of regret sweeps over Erin. It isn’t that she doesn’t want Jillian to have it. She sees how unhappy she is, how cruelly she has been treated, and she wants her to smile, to be happy. And the carousel tin makes Erin happy. She wants to share, for it to make Jillian happy, too. But it  _ is  _ a very pretty tin and Erin is so fond of it, and she’s only had it in her possession for a few short minutes before giving it away.

 

“Um. Maybe I can have it back sometimes?” she suggests softly, gesturing towards the tin. Something flashes in Jillian’s eyes, and she narrows them, looking at Erin, frowning, sizing her up.

 

“Sure,” she says casually with a shrug. “You can have it back.”

 

Erin smiles.

 

“But first you have to prove how much you want it.”

 

Erin opens her mouth to say something, but isn’t sure what to say. She looks at Jillian who is staring back at her, daring her, and Erin doesn’t fully understand, but she continues to look at her until something clicks into place.

 

“Game?” Jillian asks, the corners of her lips turning up into a smirk. Erin’s heart pounds as she looks at the tin, at Jillian’s face, and then over her shoulder at the school bus, sitting there with its doors open, engine running, no driver inside. She looks back at Jillian again who is grinning now, also glancing at the school bus and then back at Erin.

 

She doesn’t know what makes her do it. If it’s the way that Jillian is looking at her or if it’s the way her mother cried as she hugged her. But something takes hold of her and before she can think twice, she’s running onto the school bus, reaching out towards the gear shift, and pulling on it hard. She doesn’t have time to second-guess or change her mind because she does it so fast, and she can already feel the wheels moving, the bus lurching into a slow but steady movement. She jumps from the bus, back onto the street just as the bus driver notices what she’s done, jumps to his feet, screams, sprinting towards his bus. Erin’s eyes are wide, watching the large automobile slowly rolling down the street. The kids inside scream. They deserve it.

 

It’s moving so slowly that Erin knows that nobody will be hurt. But the way they scream in terror, the way the bus driver runs, trying to catch up -- she looks at Jillian who is grinning, her blue eyes sparkling, and then they’re both laughing wildly.

 

“Game,” Erin confirms, standing beside her new friend. Jillian hands the carousel tin back to her. Erin takes it.

 

And that’s how it begins.

 


End file.
